Amo
by wingslikefeather
Summary: Blaine's the chef and owner of a tiny italian restaurant and Kurt's a sucker for spaghetti. This is how they meet.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes the most significant encounters of our lives happen in the spur of an impulse. A magnetic pull which makes us turn our heads and decide on the flip of a coin or a "Why not?" more often than not without being aware of it ourselves. Some say destiny, some say luck; in any case it's never accidental. For one very important man that which made him stumble upon one of these peculiar circumstances was something as simple as a young boy. The man's name was Kurt Hummel and he never looked back.

It was a late summer afternoon the day Kurt Hummel found himself strolling down an unfamiliar road in the great city of San Francisco, California. The sun was slowly descending on the sky, casting that ethereal golden light that subtly makes everything seem lovelier, and families and old couples were roaming the streets in the search of food and wine. Tiny shops and cafés framed the small street on each side in a friendly competition for customers and in the distance the faint sound of a harmonica playing could be heard. Kurt was new to the city, just having been transferred to 's San Francisco department, and while he knew very few people and missed New York dearly he would admit that he could see himself falling in love with the city. However, being on unfamiliar territory and not having finished furnishing his tiny apartment he too was in the search for a place to dine.

He had just reached a joining point of four streets when a young boy of maybe fifteen years of age stepped in front of him, blocking his way, with an innocent smile and a mischievous, determined glint in his eyes.

"Good evening, sir. You look hungry," he said, brushing his black hair behind his ears. He had an Italian accent that matched his olive complexion.

"Nicely perceived," Kurt replied with a smile. He was charmed.  
"Excellent," the boy said, "I know just the place. Cheap and delicious, just follow me."

Kurt, amused, trailed behind the boy a couple of paces until they reached a medium sized restaurant called Tubino Nero. It was in a mute shade of green with white windows and a disarray of red and white flowers decorating the outside. It was lovely.

"My name is Amo, by the way," the boy said, leading him inside of the restaurant, "what's yours?"

Kurt, distracted by the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the place that simultaneously managed to be soothing from the uncharacteristic warmth outside eventually stuttered an answer, "I'm Kurt."

"Well Kurt, why don't you just sit down here and I'll bring you the menu," Amo said, gesturing to a worn out but soft looking red booth in the corner. "Not that you'll need it. You'll have the spaghetti. They all do." And he was off.

Kurt, after thorough convincing from Amo, had wound up with the house's specialty and after practically licking the plate clean sat back in his plush seat with a blessed sigh, sipping his red wine. It was rather late and most of the other customers in the restaurant had cleared out. He could hear the clatter from the kitchen and smell the hundreds of roses that adorned every table. Amo eventually came back with the check and noticing Kurt's satisfied expression grinned;

"Good, eh?"  
"That was the best thing I've ever tasted," Kurt sighed, placing a hand over his stomach.  
"That's what they all say. Hold on, you should meet the chef," Amo said and then, seeming to deliberate him for a second before a smirk crept up his handsome face, said: "Yes, you should definitely meet the chef, hang on – HEY, BLAINE?" Kurt started at the sudden loud yell. The door to the kitchen burst open, bathing the dining room in the smell of fresh tomatoes and spices.

"What is it, Amo? Is everything alright?" a man dressed in white asked worriedly as he hurried over to their table. Kurt gulped and immediately sat up straight in his seat. The man was, hands down, the most stunning creature Kurt had ever seen in his twenty-seven years of life. Broad shouldered and tan with a head full of the softest looking dark curls and long lashes fanning his face; toned arms and a two day old scruff on his strong chin with bright, golden eyes that went from nervously looking from the smirking fifteen year old to the empty plate before eventually stopping at Kurt. The man's nervous stuttering ceased as his eyes met Kurt's before slowly trailing them up and down his body and eventually reaching his face again with a bright blush painting his cheeks.

"I - Hi," Kurt said breathlessly, running a hand over his hair nervously.

"Hi," the ridiculously handsome man answered, unconsciously licking his lips. Amo considered them both with raised eyebrows before excusing himself, although not before poking Blaine in the ribs with a stern look.

Silence settled over them for a minute before Kurt cleared his throat and managed to smile.

"So… you're the chef then?" The man nodded dumbly. "The spaghetti was really amazing."

A happy, proud smile lit up the chef's face, "Thank you so much. It is my grandpa's recipe." Seeming to get a grip on himself from the praise, the man gestured to the seat opposite Kurt, "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," Kurt answered shyly and held out his hand, "My name is Kurt."

Taking Kurt's hand in his own, strong, warm, amazing, perfect hand the man let his thumb run over the back of Kurt's hand causing his breath to hitch. "Blaine."

After a few seconds too long they let their hands fall.  
"It's Italian," Blaine said. Kurt, who had been busy studying the perfect slope of Blaine's upper lip, blinked confusedly.

"What?"

"The spaghetti," Blaine explained, biting his lip and picking at a napkin. "I used to live in Italy and my grandparents used to make it for me."

"Oh," Kurt answered dumbly. Italian. Sexy. Sexy, sexy, sexy. "So this is your restaurant then?"

"Ah, yes," Blaine said proudly, meeting Kurt's eyes again, "I make the food and Amo, that's my cousin, is in charge of the customers."

"Well, I'll have to thank him then," Kurt said, feeling his cheeks turn red again.  
Blaine looked at him with an incredulous, happy expression, opening his mouth to answer when Amo once again appeared in the kitchen door.

"Dishes, Blaine," he said with a pout before disappearing again.

"I have to go," Blaine said, reluctantly standing up and brushing down his white apron.

Kurt nodded and rose as well, "I should get going too. Thank you for the meal, Blaine. It was truly fantastic." He smiled at him and turned to head back out in the street when a hand tentatively grabbed his wrist. Kurt felt his heart speed up, hyper aware of Blaine's warm touch on his skin as he turned back, afraid that he could feel his too-quick pulse.

"Will you come back?" Blaine said, an almost undetectable trace of desperation to his voice, "Saturdays are live music night."

Kurt let out a breathless laugh, "I would love to come back, Blaine."

Blaine let out a breath, relief evident on his face, and in a moment of courage raised Kurt's hand to press a light kiss against the back of his hand, "Good night, Kurt."

And as Kurt walked back to his small, empty apartment, with a huge dorky grin on his face, San Francisco had never looked more beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday passed in a blur of nerves, excitement and too much coffee. In an attempt to busy himself and keep his mind from drifting to tan skin and warm eyes, Kurt had spent the day cleaning out boxes and attempting to bring his apartment to the famous Kurt Hummel standard of elegance. It was, unsurprisingly perhaps, in vain. It had been a long time since Kurt had felt an attraction this intense to a man and while he felt intimidated it was a rush he welcomed with excitement. His last relationship had ended months ago and since then he had been too occupied with working his way up in the company to think about dating. However, chef Blaine of Tubino Nero had, with his exceptional charm and warmth, had managed to reignite the spark Kurt did not realize he had been missing.

The hours passed and the butterflies in Kurt's stomach intensified in their aggression until it was time to get ready to head out for "Live music night," as Blaine had said. Studying himself critically in the bathroom mirror Kurt pondered how to present himself. He took pride in his ability to dress with purpose, and the question was simply what he wanted to portray that evening. Smirking slightly to himself Kurt decided to go in for the kill, and he got down to work.

He could hear the tiny restaurant before he could get a visual of it. Laughing voices and an upbeat, happy guitar melody lit his path until he could see the little green building, which someone had, in celebration of the occasion, decorated with hundreds of yellow, dim lights, which made the place seem to illuminate in the darkness. Kurt nervously smoothed down his clothes as he approached, smiling at the people occupying the outdoor seats of the Tubino Nero.

"Kurt!" Kurt turned toward the voice and smiled at Amo, cute as ever and dressed in a sleek suit with a red flower in the upper pocket. "Ciao! Couldn't keep away, could you?" he sad with a big, knowing smile as he lead him inside to the packed dining room. Kurt blushed but held his head high as he was assigned the same seat as he had used the day before. Amo snatched a "reserved" card of the table, and Kurt couldn't keep from smiling of the fact that Blaine had had a table reserved for him. It was darker inside today, candles casting a romantic, faint glow over the room. In a corner on an elevated stage a band dressed in black, most of them sporting mustaches, played guitars, accordions and harmonicas while the guests watched and clapped and enjoyed themselves. A few children were dancing, holding hands and laughing as they swung around in front of the stage. The entire restaurant had the feeling of family.

Amo soon returned with a white notepad and a glass of Ramandolo, a sweet white Italian wine.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Very," Kurt laughed. "I think I'll have the spaghetti again, please."

"No can do," Amo said, scratching his ear. "The chef specifically told me that you were not allowed to eat the same thing you did yesterday. "_Try me_" I think he said."

"Oh," Kurt blinked. Blaine wanted him to challenge him. "Well, in that case I think I'll have the Branzino," Kurt mused.

"Excellent choice, sir. I think the chef will be very satisfied with your request." Amo bowed his head slightly, a bit mockingly perhaps, and was gone.

Kurt busied himself while waiting for his food by sipping his wine and watching the band. One of the members, with a particularly grandiose mustache, had just done sort of a split jump in the air, distracting Kurt as a white figure suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision with a low cough. Kurt jumped and turned around with his hand on his heart as Blaine, as handsome as ever in his snug white chef's jacket, his hair slicked back a bit today which made him look like an old fashioned gentleman from Federico Fellini's 8 ½, placed a stunning plate with a piece of white fish and colorful vegetables arranged artfully on the table in front of him.

"One freshly made Branzino for the gentleman at table 27," Blaine said with a dazzling grin, straightening up again.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, and immediately mentally punched himself for being so painfully obvious about his crush.

"You look… really good," Blaine said shyly. "That jacket is amazing." Kurt blushed and looked down at his dark grey blazer. He had gone for the "sexy but elegant" look that evening; the one he knew turned the most heads when he was out. In addition to the open necked white shirt and sleeked back but slightly tousled hair style he had gone for his tightest pair of black jeans, but Blaine had not seen those yet as he was sitting.

"Thank you," Kurt said happily. "You do too. I like your hair like that. Although I love the curly look too," he babbled. Blaine beamed.

"It's Live Music Night, have to look the part," he said and gestured to the opposite chair from Kurt. "Mind if I join you again?"  
"I'd love that, but shouldn't you be in the kitchen? I wouldn't want to keep you from bringing your amazing cooking to the rest of the customers."

Blaine giggled –_giggled, oh my god_ - and sat down. "It's time for my break. I've been here all day, they can manage without me for a few minutes," he explained. "By the way, you are currently neglecting the fish I made especially for you," he nodded to the untouched plate in front of Kurt. Kurt, who had been so distracted by the sudden appearance of this Italian masterpiece of a man, was suddenly hit by the aroma of the dish. Kurt hurried to take a bite, sensitive and very aware of Blaine's eyes on him.

"Blaine," he said seriously as the flavors erupted in his mouth, "you are the Penelope Cruz of cooking."

Blaine laughed heartily which caused his eyes to crinkle and said, "I'm not exactly sure what that means but I'll take it that you like it."

"It's absolutely wonderful," Kurt sighed and took another bite.

"I'm glad you like it," Blaine said in a voice so genuine that Kurt stopped chewing and looked up. Blaine's face was set in a little half smile and he was gazing at Kurt with evident placidness in his eyes.

"Excuse me, sir," a light voice said all of the sudden and Kurt and Blaine both looked down at a little girl clad in a blond dress was tugging on Blaine's chef's jacket. Behind her stood five other kids, the ones who had previously been dancing, with expectant, eager expressions. "Are you the cook?"

Blaine's face lit up in a huge smile as he crouched down to be on the children's level. "Yes I am, beautiful." The little girl practically sparkled under the praise.

"Will you dance with us?" she asked, causing three other girls behind her to giggle. _Looks like I've got some competition, _Kurt thought amused. He hoped he wasn't _that_ palpable.

Kurt declined the offer from two other little girls promising to dance with them after he'd finished eating as Blaine excused himself politely as he let the children lead him to the dance floor. Kurt found himself resting his head on his hand and sighing as he watched Blaine charm the socks of the entire dining hall as he swung up to five laughing kids around to the sound of an Italian folk dance tune. So far, Blaine seemed absolutely perfect. Three songs later Blaine left the floor to pouts and applause and stepped over to Kurt's table again, a layer of sweat lining his forehead.

"I have to get back in the kitchen now," he said. "Will you wait here till we close? It won't be long."

"Of course," Kurt said with a happy smile. Blaine wanted him to stay. "I haven't even had dessert yet." Blaine grinned.

"Oh, you have to taste the raspberry cheesecake!" he urged.

"Cheesecake," Kurt sighed, "My favorite. "

"I will have Amo bring it over straight away," Blaine said as he started walking backwards to the kitchen. "Now stay put. I still have one more person I want to dance with before I excuse the band for the night." Kurt was proud to say he only squealed a little bit.

Kurt ate his cake, which was unsurprisingly as good as the rest of the foods he had eaten at the restaurant, shared a few dances with the kids and once again found himself with a glass of wine as he watched the crowd slowly start to diminish as midnight closed in. There were only five people left in the room and the band had slowed down to a more romantic and enticing melody as Kurt felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Blaine standing there, holding out his open hand in invitation.

"May I have this dance," he asked. Kurt could only nod as he laid his hand in Blaine's and allowed him to pull him off his chair and lead him to the almost empty dance floor. Blaine had changed; he was dressed in a dark shirt with an open neck that showed off the long expanse of his throat and black dress pants with black shoes. He looked, in the lack of better words, absolutely delicious. Blaine pulled Kurt close to his body and took one of his hands while he kept the other at Kurt's waist. At the close proximity Kurt wondered if Blaine could feel his heart beating frantically.

"So, Kurt," Blaine said close to his ear. "I don't know much about you but your first name and your delightful taste for food. And jeans," Kurt blushed furiously, "tell me about yourself?

And Kurt did. "My name is Kurt Hummel. I am 27 years old and I just moved here from New York to work closer to my new boss's department at Vogue, where I help with everything from fashion designs to location scouting. So yeah, I love clothes and fashion and I'm pretty sure that's what I want to do. I also sing, although that's more of a hobby now than anything. I'm also wildly passionate about cheesecake," he teased, making Blaine chuckle into his shoulder. "What about you, chef Blaine?"

Blaine hummed and twirled them both in a little circle that made Kurt's belly flip before pulling him close again. "Well, you know I'm a chef. I've loved cooking all my life. I like feeding people; nothing makes humans happier than food. My last name is Anderson and I'm a 35-year-old Italian-American who somehow wound up in San Francisco all by myself. I was asked to be on Hell's Kitchen once, but Gordon Ramsay scares the hell out of me so I said no," Blaine said somehow wistfully, and Kurt laughed. "I also have a dog. His name is Charlie. Sometimes I think he likes Amo better than me, but that's just because he has more time than me to play tag with," he pouted. "I also have a huge collection of colorful, patterned bow ties, but that's a secret so don't tell anyone."

Kurt laughed again, "Don't worry, I have a huge collection of scarves so we're in the same boat."

They continued to dance in silence for two more songs. The intimate feeling of being so close to Blaine made something tight and hot coil in Kurt's stomach and he let his fingers stroke over the fabric of Blaine's shoulder, feeling the strong muscles underneath the garment. Blaine, who had a gentle yet heavy grip on Kurt's waist, used his other thumb to stroke the pulse point on Kurt's wrist again. They couldn't see each other's faces as they were hid over shoulders, but they could hear each other's breath. It was the single most romantic situation Kurt Hummel had ever been in.

When Amo appeared they were forced to part as he explained with a raised eyebrow how they had kept the band half an hour over time. Blaine apologized severely and insistent on paying them extra and the mustached fellows loudly left the restaurant in a merry spirit. Kurt and Blaine found themselves facing each other on the pavement outside the building, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the hundreds of sparkling lights. "I should go," Kurt said with a little smile. Blaine simply nodded. "I had a great time, though. Who knew you could both cook and dance like a professional?" Kurt teased.

Blaine chuckled again, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Kurt said, a bit panicked, "I've kept you for too long. You must be exhausted from working all day."

Blaine hurried to calm him with a hand to his shoulder, "Kurt, I had an amazing time, too. It was very well worth it, I promise." Kurt smiled, relieved and flattered.

"So," he said, not really wanting to part just yet.

"So," Blaine countered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I guess I'll just… leave, then," Kurt said, beginning to back away.

"Wait," Blaine said, once again getting a hold of Kurt's wrist, "will I see you again?"

"That depends," Kurt teased, "do you have any more specialties to wow me with?"

"Oh, I have about seventy."

"Then I will be back," Kurt said and let their hands fall. "However, it might be more… _convenient_ if we had some way to keep contact."

"Hmm," Blaine mused and stepped closer, "do you mean like a phone number?"

"That would do the trick."

"Give me your phone."

Fishing out his phone and handing it over to Blaine who quickly typed in his number and sent a message to himself, Kurt couldn't keep from ducking his head in a blush from the thrill of finally _flirting_ again. It was exhilarating.

"There," Blaine said and gave him his phone back, their fingers brushing in the process, "send me a message so I know you've gotten home safe?"

"I will do that," Kurt smiled. "Bye, Blaine." And, in a moment of bravery, he leaned in and pressed his lips to a soft kiss on Blaine's cheek. Blaine beamed

and raised Kurt's hand to his lips. "Ciao, Kurt Hummel."

* * *

_AN; phew that was a long one! I hope you like it! extra cheesy just like blaine's pizza yumyum_


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't that Kurt was spying, per say. No, repeatedly traversing a specific corner of the city in hopes of encountering a certain culinary master chief of a gentleman could hardly be qualified as something as pitiful as stalking. However, when a confused, elderly tourist managed to spill some sort of cold, yellow drink all over Kurt's beige dress shirt, the tiny restaurant was very handy to swing by to clean up.

"Hello?" Kurt said as he entered the Tubino Nero. "Blaine? Amo?"

It had been two days since the last time he'd spent the evening with the Italians. Blaine had sent Kurt two texts: one bidding him goodnight on the day of the Live Music Night, and one a bit later saying that he had had a good time. Kurt had smiled for a bit longer than probably healthy at that one. He had wanted to come back the next day but had wanted to appear less desperate than he perhaps was. However, being ruthlessly soaked by an evil Polish man was indeed reason enough to make his return.

The dining room was empty today, it was after all only 2 pm, and not a person was in sight.

"Hello?" Kurt shouted again, a bit louder this time, as he made his way towards the kitchen. He suddenly heard a loud crash followed by a door opening and two loud voices arguing.

"I didn't take them!"

"Just like you didn't take my dress two nights ago, right?"

"Jesus, Berry, what the hell would I use your shoes for, they're too small for me anyway."

"Don't call me Berry, Santana, you know I hate that."

"Then stop acting like such a bi- "

Kurt just managed to back away from the kitchen door leading into the dining area as it, too, burst open, and the two women entered the room and stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Kurt standing there. They all stared at each other in silence for a couple of silence. The two women were very different; one was very short with big, brown eyes, a bang and long chestnut brown hair that flowed down her back, the other was taller with darker hair and darker skin, she looked Hispanic. They were both clad in black, tight fitting dresses, and they were both exceedingly attractive.

"'S that him?" The shorter said without taking her eyes from Kurt.

"Duh," The other said and morphed her voice into a darker, teasing tone, "'the_ bluest eyes I've ever seen and his skin, oh my god his skin – and his voice and his jeans, Jesus he is an angel, girls, an angel, I swear.' _Yep, that's him alright."

Kurt just stood there dumbfounded as the two girls openly contemplated him.

"I can see why, he is really cute."  
"Totally Blaine's type."

"Absolutely."

"Excuse me," Kurt said, a bit affronted at being treated like some sort of museum, "Is Blaine here? Or Amo?"

The taller girl rolled her eyes, "Of course Blaine's here. He's always here."

"Shut up, Santana," the other said and put on a smile. "We're terribly sorry, that was rude. You must be Kurt, right? I'm Rachel and this ray of sunshine here is Santana. We work here." Kurt shook her hand, relieved at the change of demeanor.

"It's nice to meet you," Kurt said with a smile.

"It's really nice to finally meet you too," Rachel said. "Santana and I were on a trip down in L.A. last week so that's why we weren't around. Blaine's told us so much about you, though."

Kurt blushed. "Really?"

"Really," Santana replied with a smirk. Apparently deciding that Kurt was worth her time she started shoving him, a bit harder than necessary perhaps, into the kitchen. Her touch was friendly. Rachel followed them excitedly. "I take it you're here because of your see-through, wet shirt. Don't worry, we'll help you with that."

"Thanks?" Kurt said, appreciating the gesture but a bit thrown off by the forcefulness of it. As he was pushed through the kitchen and into a backroom consisting of a couple of chairs, a shower, a toilet and a cupboard, they came upon Amo. Sitting on one of the chairs playing with an iPhone, clad in jeans and suspenders, the young boy looked up as the three people entered.

"Back so soon, are we?" Amo said teasingly, pocketing the phone and jumping off the chair.

"Stop embarrassing him," Rachel said with a laugh and took Amo's now empty seat. "Go fetch us Blaine, will you?"

"What's in it for me?"

Santana raised her eyebrow. "How about we don't ship your ass back to Europe, kid?"

"Santana," Rachel scolded and fished a ten dollar bill out of her pocket. "How about this?"

"See," Amo said, snatching the money and heading towards the door. "That's how to pick up men." And with a wink he ran off to find Blaine.

"I don't do men," Santana yelled after him but it was too late. She sniffed, but a fond smile played on her lips, "Brat."

Rachel rummaged through the closet and found a big, white, fluffy towel, which she thrust into Kurt's arms. "Here. I'll go find you a shirt or something while you shower."

"Shower?" Kurt asked as he watched Rachel follow Amo. He'd only needed a sink or something.

"Shower. Now strip," Santana said, and added, as she saw Kurt's confused expression, "Don't worry, you can get naked in front of me. I'm a die hard lesbian," she winked.

"Still," Kurt said, too embarrassed to undress in front of a stranger.

"Fine," Santana said as she, too, headed to the door. "Blaine will bring you some clothes or whatever. Have fun!"


End file.
